


Sucker for Pain

by doppeldonger



Series: Ships from the Borderlands [1]
Category: Borderlands, Tales from the Borderlands - Fandom, borderlands 2 - Fandom
Genre: F/F, Other, hot babes being hot babes together, slight mention of sex and blood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-13
Updated: 2016-09-13
Packaged: 2018-08-14 21:19:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8029276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doppeldonger/pseuds/doppeldonger
Summary: It was inevitable the two gunslingers would fall for each other, really. The love for guns, hats and blood combined with pretty lips and nice legs make them more alike than they like to think.Takes place after the events of Borderlands 2 and Tales from The Borderlands.





	Sucker for Pain

**Author's Note:**

> A lot of people voted for Nisha x Fiona on tumblr, so I made a poster first (you can see it below as well) and then wrote a short fic to go along with it.

She carries the weight of her past like she carries her trusty revolvers in her hands, perfected with years and blood shed along the way. She’s ruthless, sharp like her clothes yet just as colorful at her core. Not everyone’s cup of tea, considering she would thread along the lines of well-aged bourbon; on the rocks just like everything in her life tends to be. The vault hunter of the glorious days long past, she protects and rules over Lynchwood with fists of iron and a heart of ice.

She, on the other hand… She prefers putting distance between herself and her acquaintances with a sniper rifle, barrel long and graceful just like her high heeled legs. She has given up on her derringer a long time ago; closeness is a thing she avoids now, as it ends with a bullet to the head or a knife to the back. Everyone knows who she is, however, no matter the distance. The wanted posters peppering walls every town she breezes through does injustice to her pretty, youthful face. (The reward on her head is even a bigger insult to her talent, but no one needs to point that out). She could have become a vault hunter, had the chance, had the competence and weapons; but what good is it to become so lawful when you can achieve more by bending the rules- or breaking them?

On a particular autumn evening, while the sun leans down to kiss the earth good night ever slowly, these two women meet just at the outskirts of Lynchwood, their shadows tangling on the colossal rocks like thirsty lovers who lost each other decades ago.

 _It should have been high noon_ , she ponders with a smirk ghosting her lips and a hand hovering over her revolver, _much more suited for a delicious duel like this_.

 _I should have stopped being so lazy and climbed those rocks to gain leverage_ , she thinks ruefully, reluctantly deciding to trade her rifle for her small revolver.

By the time the two women, both beautiful and deadly in their own ways, ready themselves and a deep drawl is set free from the Sheriff’s thin sharp lips, the full moon is already shining down on them.

**_Draw!_ **

* * *

Needless to say, they are both very much alive. We wouldn’t have a tale to tell otherwise, would we?

Many months later, they meet yet again when the Grifter steals the head of one of Sheriff’s people as easily as if she were plucking ripe cherries from a tree branch.

The Lawbringer seems to contradict herself when she no longer succeeds in keeping the law intact around Pandora, the Grifter tells the other, her warm laugh ringing in the older woman’s ears. They part yet again, the bandit seems not to have a care for the rules of a proper fight ( _what rules do they even know of?_ ).

* * *

_Fiona_.

The name sits awry on her tongue just like such a pure, fair name does not become the young woman standing in front of her. Dark clothes, fancy hat, lopsided grin clothing her plump red lips. Eyes so full of confidence that she feels insulted just by looking into them.

Her own name on those enchanting lips is an experience in itself, pronounced just like it should be.

 _Nisha_ , she murmurs like a chant. She is like a succubus, one with a bad fashion sense and an ugly rifle, but a succubus nevertheless.

It is the Sheriff who leaves (runs away from) the scene this time, scoffing as if the Grifter is the ugliest pile of Skag shit she has ever come across.

* * *

She has dyed that rosy flow in her hair a darker shade of red. That’s the first thing Nisha notices when she finds Fiona perched on the windowsill in her private chamber months later. Suits her curvy lips, suits the bloodshed she enveloped herself in for the past year. The color of the divine wine calls out to her, along with the amused little glint in her fern eyes.

She draws her pistol and aims it at her head. Naturally. The sneer does nothing but make her look like a panther, Fiona thinks. Big, strong, dangerous and beautiful. Her long indigo coat ripples behind her like a glorious mane as she steps closer, captivating the Grifter all the more.

Out for a duel, in for a long session of heated love making. Tending to their weapons isn’t the only thing the delicate hands of these gunslingers are capable of.

* * *

_This is wrong_ , she tells herself. Not ridding the universe of this bandit who calls herself an ex-vault hunter, bedding her and whispering intimate secrets into her ear whenever she holds the taller woman close, chanting her name shamelessly whenever Fiona’s tongue works wonders between her dark legs. No. This, what’s happening right now is even worse. Nisha and Fiona are not fit for working together, they have no common ground, no shared interests, no mutual goals.

Fiona laughs like delicate bells chiming in a warm summer breeze. They share their love for guns and hats. They are both strong, terrifying women who take no orders. They are talented warriors. Amazons.

And more importantly, Fiona likes the way Nisha screams her name whenever the Sheriff wraps her legs around her. The way her lips curve into an arrogant smile, the way her dark locks fall over her bare shoulders, the way her heels click on the pavement when she is en route to offing some bandits.

Nisha can’t help but admit that she loves how Fiona knows how to break her and make her anew every time they end up a tangled heap on her bed. She loves her big, bright eyes that seem alive with clever ideas at any given moment. She loves those soft red lips, especially when they leave a trail of bite marks on her body. Hell, she even loves the way Fiona carries herself despite that stupid hat of hers.

Thus, when Fiona nearly surprises Nisha by suddenly appearing behind her, somehow hanging upside down in mid-air, both women end up smiling genuinely at each other. Nisha notices later on that some sort of a grappling hook is what’s adding to her partner’s childish behavior, just as Fiona demands a kiss before she leaves.

This is how their plan goes: Fiona will cover Nisha and her people’s asses from above while Nisha goes on to wreak havoc on the poor soon-to-be-dead bandits. Easy peasy.

Needless to say, there is a high chance of people dying- hopefully more in the enemy ranks, but a couple of man-downs are inevitable on their side too (Nisha adamantly refuses to admit that to herself).

The kiss happens longingly, soft lips and slick tongues exploring one another as if the owners are fine pieces of art waiting to be discovered and admired. Worshipped, even.

Like they planned, Fiona focuses on the Siren; she has never met one, but how dangerous those women can get is a well-known fact across Pandora by now. The way her blue hair ripples in the afternoon breeze reminds her of Nisha’s soft locks. She smiles.

She pulls the trigger.


End file.
